


The white room

by GreyWeeknds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWeeknds/pseuds/GreyWeeknds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five young men from different backgrounds meets at a place they call ‘The white room’. They don’t know how they got there, and it takes everybody’s help to figure out how.</p><p>The more time they spend with each other, they’re slowly starting to realize that the others aren’t as good people as they once thought. The thing is, they have to spend forever with each other, and that’s what scares them the most.</p><p>A/N: I would really appreciate feedback as it helps me as a writer. Oh, and this was inspired by the French play ‘No exit’. x</p>
            </blockquote>





	The white room

“I fucking hate you.”   
  
In his seventeen years of living, Harry has never been more frustrated than he is now at himself. He has to inhale the air slowly so that he won’t choke on his own breaths, and his knuckles are turning white as he digs his dirty nails into his dry palms.  
  
He feels nauseated as he sees those green orbs burning holes into his face. They’re big, round, and absolutely disgusting. He kind of wants to throw up when he’s forced to see them, forced to see that pathetic face of his.  
  
He isn’t beautiful, nor is he funny. There’s nothing great about him, and if he were to ask anybody else to at least come up with one thing that’s good about him, they would just be quiet, because there isn’t a good bone in his entire body, and there never has been.  
  
His reflection stares at him; it’s resented that such a failed person owns it. He should be at least a little bit pretty, or a little bit funny, so that people shouldn’t have to see his boring, old self as he passes them on the rainy streets.  
  
Anne says that he’s just being silly, that she hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful than him. That he’s the most precious thing she has that’s still left. But she’s wrong; she doesn’t understand that she only thinks that way because she’s his mother. She’s obliged to think that her son is the best person in this depressing grey old world; it’s her duty.  
  
Through his eyes he sees his fist going in slow motion. He can’t even stop it as he observes it passing through layers of thick air, and then breaking the pieces that once captured the features of his appearance. A wet liquid flows down his wrist, and it glows in a deep shade of red.  
  
Flashing pictures of yellow teeth appear in front of his eyes. They make him shiver, and he whimpers as he remembers them being buried in his flesh. His arms are covered in goose bumps and his feet are fumbling shamefully.  
  
He whispered ‘no’ so many times, but it seemed like those big ears didn’t hear his cries, or didn’t want to. Harry’s entire inside had screamed to him that what his father was doing to him was wrong, and that he was weak for not telling the older man to stop loud enough.  
  
As his eyelids closes, he sees the older man smirking smugly, the skin on his lips being chewed, and the teeth being coloured by cigarettes and coffee. He can feel his tongue flipping around his nipple, biting it as a strain of saliva drips down his belly.  
  
It hurts; it literally hurts, when his dad bites him. There’s tiny red mark on his skin, and he has to rub his nipple to ease the pain. His laugh makes Harry vomit inside his own throat, and he can’t imagine something more disgusting than him.  
  
“Stop it.” He whines into the cold and empty room. “Please dad, stop, it hurts.”  
  
But then he remembers that his father can’t hear him, because he’s not there. His ugly teeth aren’t dug into his flesh anymore, and he’s just reliving a bad memory again.  
  
There are thousands of broken pieces of mirror on the shiny floor. Some of them are etched under his footpad, but he couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even bother to dry away the transparent tears that trails down his rosy cheek, and he don’t care that the rug is covered in his blood.  
  
Instead he takes up a cigarette and puts it between his thumb and index finger as his curls hangs in front of his emerald orbs. He lets his eyes trail over the white fabric before he inserts it between his two craving lips.  
  
When he inhales the smoke, his throat feels dry and itchy, but in the same time it feels really good. The layer of smoke that’s filling his lungs silences the little feeling that was screaming and crying in his belly before. It’s white and warm, but yet the poison doesn’t seem as toxic as it actually is. Instead it feels like a friend, like someone who loves him for him, and not because he has nice, soft baby skin.  
  
He can still hear his own sobs from his younger five-year-old self. He can still feel the heart broken tears that stream down his face as he reaches his hand out to his father’s sleeve. But he only brushes Harry’s tiny hand away as he turns around with a furious expression.  
  
“If you continue crying son, I’ll never come back. You hear that, I’ll never come back. So just be quiet and I’ll drive home, and then I’ll call you when I get time.” The husky voice hisses as he climbs into his fancy red sport car, and only a few seconds later, there’s nothing but a silhouette in the purple coloured horizon.   
  
He bites down the tears that want to be shed, and tells himself to stop being so childish. Because he can’t cry anymore, if he does, he’ll never see his father again. So he promises himself to never let a single tear travel down his cheek again as he looks down on the ground shamefully, with the whole world weighing on his shoulders.  
  
He opens his eyes in terror, and watches his knuckles that are completely destroyed.  
  
“I’m so sorry.” He says to no one in particular.  
  
His jaw clenches as he presses his fist the hardest he can into the broken pieces. His blood streams out, it looks absolutely mesmerizing. It doesn’t even hurt when the glass cuts through his flesh, and touches the nerves in his hand. It almost feels like a wind kiss, not something that is destroying his fingers when he pushes his force a little bit harder.  
  
If his mother had seen him now, she would have worn away his hand, as she would’ve pressed her lips on his destroyed hand. She wouldn’t even care if the blood would’ve dripped down the corner of her mouth, because he is her son, and that’s all that’s matters.  
  
The smoke is sipping from his lips, and a tear is trailing down his cheek, and then it falls down on his collarbone with a splash. It’s weird that when you cry, you can’t literally feel the touch of the tears, but your heart is wrenched painfully instead, and that makes up the none-existing feeling from the transparent liquid that flows down his face. You feel pathetic, and it feels like all the humans on earth can see you crying.  
  
He can’t find the power to dry it off, it’s like his soul has been sucked out, and all that remains is his living body that isn’t even remotely living. He’s just a walking robot, and not a human being. He knows how to eat, to sleep and talk to people, but he doesn’t remember how it is to actually feel.  
  
Harry’s never angry, never sad or never happy. Sure, he feels irritated sometimes, and sometimes he cries, and it happens once in while that he smiles, but he never feels those feelings entirely. It’s almost like they’re on battery saving, and he only feels half of it.  
  
His body is grey inside, but he’s not the only one who is that dark, all his days are grey too. The sun never shines enough, and it never rains completely. It’s just indifferent, nothing but a façade, and a faked smile.  
  
He loves his mum, he really does. But sometimes he forgets how much the woman means to him when she nags that he never does his laundry, or that the only person that he actually cares about is himself. That he’s selfish, and all he does is to get out with his so-called ‘friends’ and get high when she needs him.  
  
He hates how she falls asleep whenever they watch the telly, how she hears him when he tells her something, but yet she doesn’t. It’s like it just comes in through one ear and goes out the other. She tells him that he has never told her it, but he knows he has. And it destroys him when she makes him feel nuts, when he questions his own mental stability. Because he isn’t what you call a ‘normal’ guy. A normal guy is a lad that wakes up in the morning and goes to school, checking out girls and talks on the lessons. Then when the day is over, they rush home to have a quick wank in the shower and explore their own body. And sure, he does a lot of those things, but what ‘normal’ guys don’t do is to think.  
  
He thinks about life, if he deserves to love and to be loved. Sometimes he reflects over how the neglected world would be if he weren’t a part of it. Would his friends miss him, would his mum? Would his father regret how he tainted his son from the age of three to seven? No, he’s quite certain that the people in his life would only miss him for a day or two, and then after the news had settled, they’d just forget about his rotting corpse and continue with their pathetic lives.  
  
He wakes up from his daydreaming, and he lets his eyes travel around the white walls. There are no paintings or pictures on them, and there is no furniture in the room either. There’s only a big rug with bloodstains on the floor and the mirror that he destroyed earlier with the broken pieces.  
  
Harry has no idea how long he has even been here. He could’ve been here for hours, days, even months, without him noticing it. It’s like time doesn’t matter at this place, an entire year could pass without somebody caring about it.  
  
When he thinks about it, he can’t remember the last time he ate, can’t remember the last time he even saw a real person who wasn’t created in his own head.  
  
“You’ve finally woken up from your trance.” He hears a voice stating.  
  
He turns around quickly, and a man with dark brown curls that’s hanging in front of his face greets him. He’s got a crooked nose, and sharp and edgy teeth. Harry’s not sure if he’s real, or if he’s another person that Harry has just imagined.  
  
In some way he looks a bit scary, but the way his arms are a bit too long, and his waist a bit too short, makes him look like a monkey. But yet again, he looks untrustworthy, and that’s something that Harry really worships in a person. Because he’s been betrayed too many times that he can’t even count them, and he doesn’t feel like he wants it to happen once again.  
  
“Who are you?” Harry asks with the fear stuck in his chest.  
  
“I am who I am, and if I’m not, I’m not the one that you thought I was.” The man in the white shirt answers with smug face. “But you can call me Grimmy.”  
  
He kind of reminds him of that cat in Alice in Wonderland. He’s obviously not sane, but then again, who is?  
  
“Tell me Grimmy, where am I?” he wonders with astonishment.  
  
“You’re at the place that you are at right now silly!” he exclaims as he hugs his own belly, and he starts to laugh mockingly at Harry.  
  
He feels a slight anger forming inside of his stomach, and his cheeks starts to blush. His hands are shaking and his eyes wander between Grimmy’s face, and the frame that he holds in his hands.  
  
There’s no picture in it, there’s just a black hole. He wonders who Grimmy really is, because what if this is just some weird nightmare? What if this is just another night when he’s so high that he can’t even remember his own name?  
  
“Why won’t you answer my questions properly?” Harry says annoyed, feeling slightly irritated at the other male.  
  
“Because, there’s no reason to answer a question that’s been asked by a fool.”  
  
Harry opens his mouth to say something remarkably evil back, but the words are stuck in his throat and they won’t get out. He can’t say something mean, so instead he stays silent.  
  
“Is there something more that you want to ask me, because if there’s not, then I’ll have something else to take care of?” Grimmy says as he floats slowly away against the black door.  
  
His white shirt is dancing in the air, his curls jumping like a bunny in the wind.  
  
“Wait,” Harry shouts, and the man stops abruptly, “Answer me truthfully, why am I here?”  
  
It doesn’t seem like Grimmy hears him, or he just pretends that he doesn’t, because he continues to walk until he reaches the black door, and then he’s gone.  
  
Harry runs to the door, but when he reaches it, it’s locked. He hits it the hardest he can, and the word ‘kidnapped’ pops up in his head, and he’s starting to feel more and more afraid.  
  
Maybe he will be stuck her forever until he dies. Perhaps his mother will never see him again. He wants to throw up, because everything is too light right now.  
  
“Open up!” he yells frightened. “Let me out please!”  
  
But the door doesn’t open, and he’s left in the white room with nothing but his loud thoughts as company.  
  
  
  
It feels like an eternity until the man shows up again. Harry’s been sitting in a corner for God knows how long, considering the thought about him being crazy and locked into a mental house.  
  
He’s never been the brightest kid, always been a tad odd. Perhaps his mother got enough of him one day, and sent him away to a mental institution. It seems to be something that could be possible, because he has no memory how he even got here in the first place. The paramedics properly injected poison in his blood so that he wouldn’t escape. And it would answer him why everything is so white and clinical in here, it’s because freaks like him will be calm and quiet.  
  
“You’re not here because you’re mental.” Grimmy informs him.  
  
He’s not sure how the man could’ve known what he was thinking about, but he doesn’t give it much thought into it. Instead he looks at the short teen that’s clinging on Grimmy’s arm.  
  
The older man looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t brush off the kid.  
  
“What’s your name dear?” the man asks.  
  
“Niall,” He whispers, “I’m Niall Horan, Sir.”  
  
“You can go and sit with Harry over there if you want to.” He states before he hands over the teen.  
  
Harry’s not sure why he’s holding a guy in the hand that’s the same age as him, perhaps even older, but it feels good that there’s someone there who’s even more afraid than he is.  
  
When Niall looks up, Harry meets two watery dark blue orbs. They almost plead for help, and all Harry can do is to stroke his thumb in a protecting way over his hand.  
  
He wonders why Niall is here, is he as nuts as him? He doesn’t look like he’s a mental; he looks actually rather clever to be honest.  
  
“Am I dead?” Niall wonders.  
  
And that’s the first time that the thought pops up in his mind. Of course they’re dead, that’s why he can’t remember anything how he got here! Everything in his life feels a bit dull, and he can’t really concentrate on his past at the moment. It like someone put a chip in his brain to make it feel very distant, and perhaps this is his new life?  
  
“Your body is, but your mind is clearer than ever.” Grimmy claims before he makes tiny pirouettes in the air, waves being visible.  
  
Grimmy is a rather odd creature. He looks like a person, but doesn’t behave like one. And if Harry has to be honest, he thinks that there’s more about him than just that. Perhaps he’s an alien? Maybe this is space, and he’s been abducted by a UFO?  
  
“I knew it.” Niall mumbles before he dries away the tears that have escaped his eye.  
  
Suddenly he starts to sob violently, and the two other men don’t know what to do. Niall meets Grimmy’s worried eyes, and he looks as dumbfounded as he feels. Should he hug him, tell him that everything will be okay when he’s not even sure himself?  
  
“So, so, don’t feel so sad. Mr Grimmy is here to make you feel better.” He says as he floats to Niall and puts his arms around the bloke’s neck. “Why don’t you start off by telling me why you’re so afraid?”  
  
“Why? That’s obvious why, isn’t it?” he almost shouts with two wide and terrified eyes. “I’m dead, that’s why!”  
  
“But is death really that bad after all?”  
  
Niall suddenly stops sobbing and instead he gets really quiet. Harry can see that he’s thinking about everything in the slightest detail before he wants to answer the question. He’s not even sure if he would be able to, because the life as a dead man hasn’t been that bad actually. It hasn’t been that great either, still, life on earth was even worse. He hated it down there; everyone was so busy with their own lives that they wouldn’t even notice if somebody died right in front of them. So perhaps death isn’t so bad when it all comes down to it, but there’s something that isn’t right here either.  
  
“I-I don’t know yet.” He stutters a bit forced out.  
  
“Well, I’m glad to inform you my dear friend, that you have an eternity to find out.”  
  
“I’m not so sure that I’m happy about that.” Niall says almost inaudible.  
  
Harry’s not so sure either, because he doesn’t want to be stuck here forever. Well, he thinks he doesn’t anyway, because forever seems like an awfully long time.  
  
“Grimmy, can I ask you something?” Harry asks suddenly.  
  
“Of course… if it’s not as stupid of a question as before anyway.”  
  
Harry only rolls his eyes as he looks at the men; they’re all dressed in white. He doesn’t bother to reply to him as he has gotten used to his ignorant behaviour. The only time that he has seemed the tiniest bit human was when he comforted Niall earlier, but other than that, he’s a creature by himself.  
  
“Are there going to come more people here? Or are Niall and I the only ones who are going to stay here?”  
  
Out of the blue, he looks like he’s considering something. Perhaps he’s not allowed to tell them too much, because that might help them to escape from this room.  
  
“What I’ve been told, there’s going to be three more. I don’t know that much to be honest, because I’m only the one who delivers people here and hands them their assignments, there’s people above who decide everything here at this place.” Grimmy admits.  
  
“Oh.” He breathes out while he lets his gaze fall down on his feet.  
  
He can hear Niall’s deep breaths; his ribcage is going up and down as he inhales the air through his lungs. He’s scared, Harry can tell. He would probably want to be locked in here with someone other than Harry, and he’s certain that the blond kid’s biggest aspiration is for the other people to turn up as soon as possible.  
  
Harry feels a bit bad for the kid that he’s forced to live with for an eternity, but perhaps Niall will get used to his pathetic, old self.  
  
-  
  
  
  
Harry’s beginning to know that Niall isn’t that shy wallflower that he once thought he was; instead he’s a social butterfly. He loves to talk, and it’s impossible to make him shut up. But Harry doesn’t want him to be quiet; he loves to hear his adorable Irish accent filling the empty walls.  
  
He knows that he’s selfish for wishing it, but in some way he hopes that it will take a long time until those other three people arrive. He likes to spend his infinite time with Niall, just hearing that low and deep laugh when he hears anything he finds remotely funny. He makes Harry smile, which the brunette never thought would ever be possible again, and maybe he’s starting to get happy again.  
  
Sometimes he misses his mum, because after all she was his family, but he’s slowly developed the thought of getting used to the life here. Even though it’s too white and too light, he’s happier here than he’s been in ages.  
  
“Niall?” he mumbles silently. “Do you remember how you got here?”  
  
The blonde turns suddenly petrified and his breaths are gradually getting more hyperventilating by every second. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked him, because the last time he saw Niall looking this nervous was when he met him for the first time.  
  
“You don’t have to answer, it’s cool.” Harry says as he drops the subject.  
  
“No, it’s just that I’ve never thought about it before, but I don’t know how I got here. The last thing that I remember is that I saw a man with bad skin. He had really terrifying eyes, and he looked at me like I was the most disgusting thing in the whole world.”  
  
“Do you know why he looked at you like that?”  
  
“No, sorry I don’t.” he claimed, and Harry can hear that the boy is lying, but he don’t want to push him.  
  
He looks at Niall for a few moments and for the first time he sees that Niall’s eyes aren’t just dark blue. They shift into thousands of shades as the light hits them, and they’re both blue and a tint of yellow around his pupil.  
  
Harry wants to take up a shovel and dig deeper in them, climb into them and find that little treasure of gold that he’s certain that’s hidden in those beautiful orbs. They’re so mesmerizing, and they must be real sapphires.  
  
He lets his eyes travel down from his eyes to his cheeks and chin. There are brown freckles that are almost invisible etched into his skin, and Harry doesn’t even notice when he pokes them with his index finger. It’s not until Niall beings to giggle fiercely that he comprehends what he has done, and he starts to blush in a deep shade of crimson.  
  
“It was okay that you touched them, it only tickled.”  
  
“Oh.” He breathes out, relived but he can still feel that his skin is burning hot.  
  
His fingers start to brush them once again, but this time he’s a bit gentler.  
  
Niall’s pale and delicate skin is so soft, like a bed full of roses, and Harry wonders if he felt as lovely when he was alive as now when he’s dead. Perhaps it felt even better to touch him down on earth? But he doubts that very highly, because there is no way that he could have been softer than he already is right now.  
  
He wonders whenever it was that he grew so fond of him. But the thought of never seeing him again makes him throw up inwardly, and he is more scared of that than that he’s actually dead and trapped into this place where the only way out is locked from the other side of the room.  
  
“Harry?” Niall whispers, the brunette lets his finger fall down as the blonde uttered his name quietly with so much caution.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Do you think that those people that’re going to be joining us are going to be good people?”  
  
He sounds terrified, and he’s not certain if he should lie or not. If he does, then he will make the older guy feel a bit calmer, but then if it turns out that they are in fact not good people, he will feel ashamed and regretful. So instead he thinks that lying isn’t the best option, and maybe he should just ignore his question.  
  
“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully, because he wouldn’t even be able to pretend that he hadn’t heard him even if he wanted to.  
  
He’s scared that the Irish will like one of those guys or girls more than him, and only the thought of it still makes him feel jealous. He’s never been a guy who liked to share his possessions, and Niall is one of those things even though he doesn’t even own him.  
  
“Niall,” Harry starts, “we’re friends, right?”  
  
“Of course we are!” he exclaims as it’s the silliest statement he’s ever heard. “I can’t believe you ever thought that we weren’t.”  
  
“Good.” Harry says smiling.  
  
He sort of hoped that they were friends, but he wasn’t sure that they were. He’s never had real friends before except those blokes who he used to give weed, and he was afraid that Niall didn’t see him as one. So when his wishes were confirmed, relief replaced and all the anxiousness left his body, and it felt easier to breathe real breaths again.  
  
-  
  
He can hear a knock on the door, and Harry knows instantly that it’s Grimmy.  
  
He’s been wondering for a time now what hides behind that big black door. It feels like someone doesn’t want either him or Niall to know. He’s been thinking about discussing it with the blonde, but he can’t really find the right words to say. So despite his curiousness, he’s remained silent for the time being.  
  
When Grimmy opens the door, a lad that’s the same age as them greets them. He’s got shiny jet-black hair, a tiny bit of facial hair that’s frames his perfect jaw perfectly and a muscular body that Harry can only imagine what it would be like to feel it to be pressed up against. His amber eyes look at them, and it feels like Harry could drown in their depth and prettiness.  
  
When he notices the way Niall looks at him, he feels the sudden urge to push out the tanned teen and close the door forever, because Niall looks breathtakingly at his beauty. The boy doesn’t seem to be even conscious that he rises from the floor, and walks over to the guy that stands awkwardly beside Grimmy in his identical white shirt like the others.  
  
“My name is Niall.” He breathes out dreamingly.  
  
“’M Zayn.”

“You’ve got really pretty eyes.” Niall blurts out before he realizes what he has said, and his cheeks flush deeply red.  
  
“Thanks… I guess.” The raven says before he sits in the same corner that Harry spent all his first time being alone here in before the Irish arrived.  
  
Niall looks surprised by the way Zayn doesn’t seem at all interested with being around them. He turns around and meets Harry’s gaze, and Harry can’t stop himself from taking Niall’s hand into his own and squeezing it, protecting him. The blonde breaks out in a smile before he sits down on the floor close to Harry, resting his head against the brunette’s shoulder where he drifts to sleep very quickly.  
  
He strokes the blond hair fondly with his fingers, not even knowing of the goofy smile that’s playing on his lips. It feels good to have Niall pressed up against him, and he could sit in this position forever if he had to.  
  
He loves the way his hair feels against his skin, like it’s made just for him. Harry wants to tell him how much he cares about him, but he’s too afraid about his reaction. Perhaps he will resent him, never ever talk to him again. He hasn’t ever looked at Harry the same way that he looked at the newly arrived lad.  
  
It’s not love that he feels for the blonde, because that’s too early for that, but perhaps he fancies him? He knows that he sees him more as a friend, and his heart hammers whenever their eyes meet. But he doesn’t get the same feeling as he once felt for that someone that he doesn’t want to remember; doesn’t need to remember.  
  
It feels like he’s got a second shot up here, like he can just forget about his past and start a new life, here where time doesn’t matter. It sort of gives him a bit hope that he’s not totally useless, that perhaps there was a plan for him all along.  
  
“Kiddo.” Zayn hisses.  
  
Harry only nods as an answer as he doesn’t want to wake up the sleeping Niall. The blonde looks too peaceful and innocent to be awake, and Harry likes the thought of holding the sleeping lad in his lap.  
  
“How long are we going to be staying in this place?”  
  
“Forever.” He replies coldly as he looks down on the Irish again, feeling the warm feeling coming back again.  
  
“That’s a fucking long time.” He hears Zayn mutter, but he doesn’t care to answer him.  
  
He doesn’t even understand why the older teen continues to try to talk to him; doesn’t he realize that Harry’s not in the least interested in being his friend?  
  
He doesn’t like the way his eyes are so dark, almost black. He doesn’t like his husky, smokier voice, and he certainly doesn’t like the way he’s really sexy.  
  
Niall is supposed to find Harry attractive, not Zayn. He hasn’t even spoken more than a few words to him, and he’s talked to Harry for at least a couple of months now, perhaps even years. He’s Harry’s friend, not Zayn’s. Perhaps he can just force Niall to never knowledge the newbies’ presence? After all, he’s a man of few words. But of course he can’t, because then the blonde would never speak to him again and Harry would remove all his freedom.  
  
  
  
He feels two eyes observing him when he wakes up the next day. It doesn’t feel the same way as usual and when he opens his eyelids he sees the two amber orbs staring into his face.  
  
“We need to talk.” He whispers.  
  
Harry only looks at him confused as he rubs his eyes tiredly, still feeling like he’s in deep sleep.  
  
Before he died he had been certain that ghosts couldn’t fall asleep, but the life as a dead person is a lot like being alive. He still gets tired; his body still hurts when he accidently hurts himself, and he still feels emotions and sexually frustrated when he feels Niall’s presence.  
  
The thing about the white room is that it seems to change when he really wishes it to. Like sometimes when he needs his personal space he just wishes that a wall shall appear, and then suddenly there’s something that isolates him from the others.  
  
He watches Niall who’s still sleeping on the soft rug, right beside the old bloodstains that’s almost not visible anymore.  
  
He follows the older bloke who’s standing near the door that they all came in from; he looks like he wants them to be really quiet. If it hadn’t been because Harry is really tired, he wouldn’t even keep his voice silent.  
  
“So I’ve been thinking,” He states as he taps his fingers on the wooden fabric eagerly, “why don’t we just ditch Blondie and find a way together to escape from this prison? I can see that you’re as mentally stable as I am, but he would just break before we even got outside this door.”  
  
Harry’s green eyes go wide, and he can’t believe that he actually had said anything like that to him. Can’t he see how much he likes Niall? Is Zayn really that stupid that he thinks that Harry would just let Niall stay here while he would leave?  
  
“Never.” He frowns as he walks over to the sleeping teen again, feeling the cold floor under his naked feet.  
  
If Zayn wants to escape, it’s up to him. They don’t even know what will wait for them outside that door, and he’s not eager to find out either at the moment. It could be a place that’s much worse than this, and then everything would be destroyed.  
  
It would be different if it had been the smaller lad who had asked him, because Harry wouldn’t even have hesitate if he had said the exact same words as the tanned bloke had said a moment before.  
  
“Wimp.” He hears Zayn whisper as his eyes are glued onto the door, pulling the handle over and over again, as his gaze is transfixed.  
  
Despite being irritated, Harry doesn’t even bother to reply him. Instead he presses his chest against Niall’s torso and embraces his arms around his waist. He buries his head in the smaller boy’s neck, and inhales his sweet scent through his nostrils.  
  
He smells terrific, like vanilla and strawberries. He’s a real summer boy; Harry thinks as he himself drifts back to sleep, feeling the warmth from Niall’s body beaming into his.  
  
-  
  
“Boys, I’m bringing you the two last ones.” He hears Grimmy’s voice echoing in the walls. “Say hello to Liam and Louis, the two lovers!”  
  
When the two brunettes appear in the room, Niall and Harry walk over to shake their hands friendly.  
  
They look nice; the taller one of them has two calm hazel eyes. He’s got a wide smile plastered on his lips, and a birthmark on his neck.  
  
The smaller one has two bright blue eyes. He has a little bit of a tummy, but it looks like a baby belly, so it’s fine. When he smiles, Harry sees that his teeth are very edgy, almost like a vampire. But his smile is happy and genuine, and Harry is certain that he will find a friend in the bloke.  
  
The fact that the two men has their fingers entwined makes him like them a lot more, because that means that the only threat for him is Zayn, and lately it has seemed that Niall isn’t as fond of him as he were in the beginning.  
  
“I’m Niall, and he’s Harry.” The Irish says happily; glad to see some new faces. “And the guy over there, he’s Zayn. He’s not very social, but I’m certain that he’s a real blast under that thick, macho skin.”  
  
Louis only laughs as he hears the sarcasm dripping out from Niall’s mouth. He shakes their hands and Liam does the same a few seconds later.  
  
“I guess that you two don’t remember how you came to be here?” Harry says more as a statement than a question.  
  
“Not the slightest clue.” Louis says in pity.  
  
“Nope.” Liam agrees.  
  
Harry inhales a deep breath before he waves at the boys to follow him where Zayn won’t be able to hear them. The three men looks a bit confused, but they all do what they’re said. They sit down on the ground in a little circle, and Harry can feel Zayn’s transfixed eyes burning holes into his neck.  
  
“I think there’s a reason why the five of us has been chosen to live with each other. “ Harry hisses in a husky morning voice. “It’s can’t just be something random that happened to us, I’m certain that there was something or someone that was determent to put us five together.”  
  
“I’ve actually been thinking about that, and I think that Harry’s right.” Niall states, and Harry can’t help but feeling a little warm flame in his stomach when the blonde agrees with him. “I think we are here to help each other remember, that there happened something to all of us that we’re supposed to remember, even though we can’t right now.”  
  
Liam and Louis look at each other, it seems as though they’re weighing the options to tell the other two boys or not.  
  
“I don’t know if this will help, but perhaps we’re all meant to tell our stories… and I think that that guy has to be a part of that.” Liam whispers.  
  
“But he’s mental!” Harry almost shouts, and Zayn is sending him death glares when he meets the dark amber eyes.  
  
“That doesn’t matter Harry, Liam is right, we have to make everybody be a part of it. Zayn included.” Niall says.  
  
Harry sighs as he waves Zayn to come, and when the boy comes, his white shirt dances in the thin air and he beams beauty.  
  
Harry doesn’t actually remember why he hates the kid so much, but he’s sure that there’s a great reason. There’s something about him that Harry can’t put his finger on, and he doesn’t know why, but it terrifies him.  
  
When Zayn joins their circle, Harry feels extremely uncomfortable and he wants to sit as far away from the lad as possible. He doesn’t want to sit so near him because he beams a feeling like he wants to kill Harry, or kill him once again. He looks at him with so much distaste, and Harry can’t remember the last time somebody else looked at him that way.  
  
“We have agreed on that we are going to tell each other our life histories, because if we do, then perhaps we’ll find a way to come out of this white room.” Niall informs him. “And as I’m quite certain that nobody of you wants to start, I think that I have to be brave one and be the first.” He falls silent for a while, and Louis seems to be very impatient as he taps his hand on his knee.  
  
Perhaps he hasn’t understood yet that time isn’t important here, that you can be quiet for an eternity, and yet it wouldn’t matter. “I grew up in a poor home, and my family couldn’t afford food at one point. So the only way for us to survive as long as we did was for me to become… a hooker. At first it didn’t seem so bad, I got money for having sex with men, but later on it got more and more scary.  
  
Dangerous men turned up; sometimes they even hit me. In the end I was so used to being covered in all those bruises and scars that they made on me, that I didn’t see a point of struggling back. The last thing that I remember is that a man with two mean eyes looked at me, and I think that he’s the one that murdered me.”  
  
A tear escapes Niall’s eye, and he looks so ashamed of his past. But Harry doesn’t care if he was a prostitute; the only thing that’s important is how much the blonde means to him. So to insure him that he thinks it’s okay, he hugs the boy tenderly as he sobs into Harry’s neck.  
  
“Oh stop it with all the melodramatic.” Zayn mutters.  
  
Harry only ignores him; as he looks at the other men, finally ready to tell them his story.  
  
“My dad used to do things to me, bad things. He touched me, and I was scarred for life. I’m not sure, but I think that I took my life. You see, I was really depressed, and I used to get high on certain occasions. The day that I died, I’m sure that I was high, because sometimes I have this dullness in my brain that I felt when I was stoned.”  
  
“Oh Harry, you didn’t deserve that.” The Irish breathes out on his skin.  
  
Niall feels so fragile in his arms, like he can break any second. Harry can’t even imagine how there could be men that wanted to hurt his tiny little body. If he‘d known him in real life, Harry would’ve protected him instead of making him go through all the pain that he has been through, and perhaps they both would’ve been saved.  
  
He turns his gaze towards Liam, and he looks ready to tell them his story. Before he begins he squeezes Louis’ hand, and then finally he feels the courage to start.  
  
“I was stuck in a horrible relationship with a girl named Danielle. Once when we were young and beautiful, we used to swim naked in the river, as I would put white flowers in her brown hair, fingers traveling from her collarbone and down her small breast.  
  
But as the years passed by she developed to a social butterfly, and I stayed as a shrinking violet. We were just too afraid to admit that we didn’t love each other. So I used to pretend that I didn’t notice the men’s underwear in her apartment, and she pretended that she didn’t see the way mine and Louis’ eyes melted with each other.” Liam tells them before he continues. “Louis was a great lad. He always used to crack a joke or two, and all he wanted was to make me feel as happy as possible. But he plastered a smile on his lips to hide how sad he really was, and he thought that I couldn’t see how he his eyes were swollen, that I didn’t noticed the way he acted when I didn’t answered his calls. He always pretended that the nights when he ended up knocking on my door, having me holding him tightly and as I let my shoulder be drowned in his own tears, didn’t happen. And I used to let him pretend that those hours that we spent together was just made up in our heads, because Louis was my lover, and if a lie or two pleased him, then I would lie.”  
  
“How did you two die?” Niall sobs quietly, touched by their love story.  
  
“I think that we made a double suicide so that we could finally be together.” Louis answers him as he strokes Liam’s arm caressing.  
  
They all turns their heads to Zayn who hasn’t said anything yet, but he only growls a ‘That’s none of your fucking business.’ before he storms off to his usual corner, eyes being glued on the door once again.  
  
Harry doesn’t understand what his damn problem is, why the fuck he’s so bipolar all the time. If he really hates it so much here, then why doesn’t he just tell them his story so that they can help him?  
  
-  
  
It takes a really long time until they see Grimmy once again. He sort of has some glow that beams from his skin when he turns up, and he gives them their own separate empty frame.  
  
There’s nothing in the wooden frame, only a black picture, and Harry’s not sure what it’s supposed to mean. His eyes go back and forth, and he can’t see whatever it is that he’s supposed to see. Is he blind, or just very, very dull? It’s not until he hears Niall exclaiming a scream loudly that he sees something moving in his picture.  
  
“Tell us what you see Ni.” Grimmy says as his trails his fingertips over Niall’s bare neck in a very intimating way.  
  
“It’s my mum; she’s laying pink flowers on my grave. She cries, and she tells me that my father is very sick. Since I’m dead they can’t afford to take him to the doctor, and she’s afraid that he won’t be able to survive this disease.” Niall murmurs.

“The scene has changed now. This time it’s in the room where I used to have sex with all my clients. There’s a new guy, a lad with bleached locks like mine. He’s younger than I was when I first started and he looks scared. There’s that man that I think killed me, but he doesn’t seem angry this time, instead he cries when they shag.”  
  
“Wait, I see something too!” Liam shouts suddenly, “It’s Danielle. She sits on her bed, feet dangling in the air as she looks at some pictures of us. She says something about ‘How could you Liam?’ I think she’s still heartbroken that I didn’t love her back, or that I cheated on her with another man, her best friend.”  
  
Harry looks down on his frame again, and now he sees something. It’s a child, he seems to be crying and he rants over again the word dad. He doesn’t recognise the kid, and if he hadn’t heard his own mother cooing ‘Charlie’ as she would take him up in her lap and hug him lovingly, Harry wouldn’t understand why the child is there in his frame.  
  
He turns his head towards Grimmy, and he doesn’t comprehend the fact why his mother is holding another person’s child while she should be grieving him.  
  
“Grimmy, I don’t understand.” He frowns. “I don’t know who’s that kid is, and why he’s in my picture.”  
  
“Why? Of course you know why my stupid little friend, it’s because he’s your son.”  
  
He feels how his entire body turns to ice, and he can’t really breathe. His child? Harry doesn’t have any kids and this must be some misunderstanding. Perhaps it’s some cousin, or perhaps Gemma has gotten a man and given birth to this little boy. But he’s certainly not Harry’s, he’s sure of that.  
  
“He’s not mine.” He says determined.  
  
“Of course he’s yours Harry. It’s yours and that girl that died when she gave birth to your son. He was three when you died, and he’s crying now because it’s two years ago since you left him.”  
  
“B-but I don’t remember h-him.” Harry stammers.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, because he’s still yours.”  
  
The brunette is slowly starting to feel very dizzy, and if it hadn’t been for Niall who came rushing towards him and hugged him strongly, then he would’ve probably fainted.  
  
He can hear how Niall is whispering to him that it’s okay if he has a son and that he’s going to help Harry remember him. But he can’t answer the blonde, because the memory is slowly starting to come back to him now.  
  
He was fourteen when he made that girl pregnant, she was only thirteen. He hadn’t loved her, only had sex with her one time when they were both high in school. The last month of the pregnancy she had turned very sick, and when she gave birth to Charlie, she died. It had been him and his mum who took care of his son.  
  
“Oh my God, I remember him now.” He breathes out before he closes his eyes and bites back the tears that want to be shed.  
  
He must have been a very bad father if he forgot his own son. Perhaps he was even worse than his own father? No, that’s almost impossible. Nobody could’ve been worse than that horrible man.  
  
When Harry opens his eyes, he can see Liam and Louis standing behind Zayn with shocked faces. He wonders why they look so surprised, perhaps Zayn has a bigger secret than all of them ever had? That might be the reason why he didn’t want to tell them what his life history was before.  
  
“Zayn, you okay?” Louis whispers silently as he pats his shoulder comfortingly.  
  
The raven only shoves away his hand as he rushes away to the door furiously, hitting it hard as he screams with tears streaming down his face, ‘Let me out of this goddam horror place!’  
  
He has remind himself to ask them whatever it was that they saw, because for the first time, he feels a bit of sympathy for the other man.  
  
-  
  
Harry wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling Niall being pressed against his body; head snuggled into his chest as he breathes silently on his bare skin. His scent is even stronger now when the rest of the world is forgotten, and the only ones that matter are the two of them.  
  
Harry wants to take a picture of them, and keep it forever in his heart, because he loves the way their bodies match together so perfectly.  
  
When their toes brush against each other, he’s beginning to sweat a bit. His palms are really humid, and there’s an unpleasant shiver that travels down his spine swiftly, leaving goose bumps on his arms and legs.  
  
Even though it’s really dark, the bright blue eyes are as clear as two stars on the night sky when they meet Harry’s green ones. It’s weird that he never felt this way before when he was alive, as now when he’s dead. But he doesn’t lie that much thought into it, as he sees Niall’s face coming nearer to his, his lips shiny pink.  
  
“You’re awake?” the Irish whispers even though he perfectly well knows that Harry’s not sleeping at all anymore.  
  
“Yeah.” He mumbles as he messages Niall’s arm with his thumb, feeling the hairs that tickles his skin playfully, and he sends him a shy smile as he continues rubbing his elbow in a slow pace.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about something for a long time. Are you disgusted by my past, because I would understand if you are?” the blonde whimpers, fear visible in his gaze.  
  
All the tiredness leaves Harry’s brain as he hears Niall uttering the words aloud. How can he even think that? Doesn’t he see how much he likes him? Niall is the only light that he still has left, and he wouldn’t trade him for the world if he got the chance to.  
  
“Of course not. I care about you, Ni. So much more than you’ll ever know.”  
  
“Good, because I care about you too.”  
  
He feels Niall’s body shifting, and suddenly two wet lips are pressed against his cheek. It’s a bit sloppy, and his cheeks heat up by the cold touch. But it feels good, and his heart beats rapidly faster as Niall’s lips trails down to the corner of his mouth, smiling against his skin through the kiss.  
  
Their knees are brushing against each other, Harry’s fingers buried into his blond locks. Niall wears a crooked smile as he Harry is poking his freckles on his cheekbones.  
  
“I care about you very much Harry, just so you know.” He murmurs as his places his mouth on Harry’s collarbone, falling deeply into sleep again.  
  
In that moment Harry forgets about all the jealousy he ever felt towards Zayn, and instead he embraces Niall tightly and kisses his forehead as his bleached locks are stuck against his sweaty temple. He’s so beautiful, he thinks, he’s really goddam beautiful.  
  
-  
  
The next morning after Harry’s the first of the five that wakes up by the early morning light. He places his lips on Niall’s, and the older boy yawns into his mouth as his eyelashes flutter tiredly against Harry’s cheek.  
  
The only thing that the brunette can do is to smile into the touch before he breaks apart and hushes when Niall’s trying to say something. He only waves his index finger to make the blonde follow him, and they silently scoots to Liam and Louis who’s a few meters away from them.  
  
The two men are pressed against each other, Liam’s nose nuzzled into Louis’ brown hair as he inhales his scent lovingly.  
  
The taller teen’s arm is lazily placed over the elder’s chest, their legs entwined while their breaths are synchronized into one.  
  
“Wake up.” Harry hisses almost inaudible.  
  
It takes him a few shoves and kicks before they finally open their eyes, and he has to place his palm over their mouths so that they will keep quiet.  
  
“Follow me.” He says, and the boys do as they’re told.  
  
They walk to the other side of the room, and Harry wishes hard that a wall should part them and Zayn for just a little while.  
  
Out of the blue there’s a white wall that isolates them from the raven and he hopes that Zayn hasn’t woken up by the little pop that came when the wall suddenly turned up.  
  
He clears his voice so that he can finally tell them why he was in such a rush to make them awake, but it was important, because his entire plan would be destroyed if the tanned teen had woken up before them.  
  
“I must ask the two of you, since you’re the only ones beside Zayn that saw it, what was it in his frame that made him go so mental?”  
  
The two brunettes looks at each other, and for the first time, Harry isn’t sure if they are really on his team or not.  
  
He hasn’t actually talked to them that much, and he’s been to wraped up about Niall that he hasn’t noticed if they’ve hanging out with Zayn or not.  
  
“I don’t know if he would want us to tell you guys,” Louis begins, “It was sort of private.”  
  
“Come on!” Harry lets out; feeling slightly frustrated at the two men.  
  
Why don’t they understand that he needs them to tell him? If they ever want to come out of this place, they need to admit whatever it was that they saw.  
  
“Okay then. Well there was this girl in his picture, she had pink hair and she was very thin. She was lying unconscious with bottles all around her, and she had a lot of bruises on her face.” Liam says in a hushed tone, afraid that the raven would still be able to hear them. “The thing was it was not the present that was showing in his moving picture, but a memory.  
  
He was in it, and he was the one who gave her all those bruises. He was screaming at her, really drunkenly, that he was ashamed to be married to such a nasty woman like her. The last thing he did was to throw his golden ring on her broken ribs.”  
  
“Oh my God! He was a wife beater? That’s bloody disgusting,” Harry says shockingly, “I always knew he was a twat, but I never thought that he was so damn damaged that he would actually be an abuser.”  
  
“That poor girl.” Niall says with a curved smile, tilting his head sadly at the woman’s misfortune.  
  
“Wait, there comes more. Lou and I witnessed something more, something terrible. He killed her, his wife, he killed her, and then he took a gun and shot himself in the head too.  
  
That’s why he gets really aggressive sometimes, because the memory of him being drunk reappears. It’s just like when Harry feels really dull because he died stoned, and Niall gets his panic attacks because he was murdered in that dark apartment, and me and Lou gets extremely stressed, because when we were going to take our lives, there was almost no time to commit it.”  
  
“Even though we’re all dead, I can’t help but feeling scared of him, which was the reason why I was afraid to tell you his story.” Louis whimpers as Liam squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.  
  
“If he ever does something to you babe, I’m going to kill that bastard even if he’s already dead. I’m going to destroy that little pretty face of his.”  
  
Louis just nuzzles his nose into Liam’s neck as thanks before they wish that the wall shall disappear.  
  
When he meets Zayn furious eyes, Harry only curls his arm around Niall’s shoulders as he runs his fingers through the blond hair.  
  
He can feel Niall shaking, and he wraps his arms around his waist so that he won’t feel as afraid as he is at the moment.  
  
Harry doesn’t feel scared like the rest of the group is of Zayn, despite his horrible crime, he’s emotionless.  
  
There’s sizzling sounds in the room as he can hear the two lovers whispering his and the darker teen’s names frequently, their eyes jumping between the men as they’re waiting for one of them to finally break out in rage.  
  
But Harry only continues to massaging Niall’s scalp calmly as he narrows his eyes with disgust at Zayn, a vein pulsing in his temple as he holds his gaze glued to the amber eyes hardly.  
  
It’s with raw determination that he won’t let his eyes fall down, but it’s because of Niall that he keeps being strong. He needs to protect his boy, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.  
  
In the end Zayn gets bored, and he changes his view to look at the door again, trying to peek through the keyhole.  
  
All the words are garbled in his mind, and he can hear the name ‘Perrie’ echoing in his head. He doesn’t recognise the voice, and none of the others seem to be aware of what Harry just heard.  
  
When he comes a bit closer to Zayn, the name gets higher and higher, and for the first time he considers the thought that maybe the four of them has just been chess pieces all along to the tanned bloke.  
  
-  
  
Despite all his anxiousness, he thinks that he loves the blonde. He’s not entirely sure, but he guesses that the feeling that he haves in his pit is called love. When he sees him, he feels warm, and the thought of him disappearing makes the entire colour from his face drain away. So yeah, he must love him, because if he doesn’t, he isn’t sure whatever he it is that feels is called.  
  
When he feels Niall’s fingers are fumbling over his naked chest, sloppy kisses placed on his belly, there’s butterflies that’s flying around inside of his tummy like crazy.  
  
He blushes when the cold fingers trails down to his crotch, touching him hungrily as he’s a piece of meat instead of a real human being.  
  
At first he freezes when he feels the little vibrating feeling in his lower region, but then a sigh escapes his lips, and he feels free even though he’s trapped into this place.  
  
“I’m going to make you feel how much you mean to me.” Niall croons smugly.  
  
“Okay.” He gulps back, nervous what exactly it is that he means.  
  
The Irish exposes a smile that shows his pearly white teeth before he dives down and removes the last clothing that Harry still has on his body.  
  
He can feel his breath hitch as Niall lets his tongue trail around his head before swallowing his entire length, and bobbing his head back and forth.  
  
There’s escape tiny sounds from his lips as he licks Harry’s cock, and it sounds so hot to his ears, almost like music.  
  
He meets Niall’s eyes, and suddenly he looks so vulnerable, like he isn’t sure if what he does is right. And it’s a tad odd, since he was a whore when he was back alive. But it makes Harry feel a bit more secure when he strokes his bang behind his ear, and he’s thankful that he’s trapped with a guy like Niall.  
  
His eyes are shimmering prettily, and he’s never been any more beautiful as he is in this moment, his lips around Harry’s while he’s standing on his knees.  
  
“You’re doing fine.” Harry keens. “More than fine.”  
  
The blonde lets the dick fall out of his mouth before he stands up and captures Harry’s lips with his own. His hands are finding their ways around his hips, and his nails are digging themselves into his flesh.  
  
“I love you so much Haz.” He grins into his mouth.  
  
“I love you too Ni.” He says before he grips Niall’s waist and spins his body around so that his tummy is pressed to his torso now.  
  
He places tiny kisses of his back, cooing sweet nothings to him as he’s sprawled out on the soft rug, pleading Harry to touch him.  
  
He gives him a watery smile before he lets his tongue trail down his spine, a string of saliva being visible as the light hits it. He can feel Niall shiver underneath him, and he wants to say to him that he’s also nervous.  
  
Harry has imagined this scenario so many times, but it’s a lot more awkward in real than it was in his own head.  
  
He had thought that everything would be smooth, but instead Niall yelps in pain as he curls his finger inside of him. The only thing he can to do is to hush him and tell him that his pain will soon be replaced into pleasure.  
  
He doesn’t want to think about all those men that have been lying on top of the boy before, but he can’t help it. He can see them panting, drooling and thrusting onto him, and it makes feeling very ill.  
  
He hasn’t even noticed that he has stopped to rock on him until he feels that Niall is beginning to mourning.  
  
“Why’d you stop? Why don’t you continue?” Niall questions him.  
  
He takes a deep breath, and he can already hear it inside of his breath how wrong it sounds.  
  
“When you were alive, how many guys did you fuck? I mean, you’ve already told me that you were a prostitute, but you never told me how long?”  
  
He feels how Niall begins to squirm underneath him, shoving away his arms as he lays down on the floor.  
  
Harry joins him as he rests his head on Niall’s arm, looking apologetic with two big emerald orbs.  
  
“I’ve shagged a lot of guys Harry. I don’t even want to count them, I wouldn’t even be able to even if I tried.” Niall’s eyes tighten, and for the first time, Harry feels disgusted by him. “But you’re the only one I’ve ever made love to, I swear.”  
  
He feels how he’s drowned in shame when he meets the two angelic eyes. He can’t even comprehend the fact that he was for a minute ago disgusted by the only man that he has truly loved.  
  
Harry captures Niall’s lips with his own, murmuring sorry over and over again into his mouth. His cheeks are suddenly wet, and when he breaks away from the kiss, he sees that heartbroken silvery tears are sliding down his face as he glances vulnerably up at Harry.  
  
“I’m so sorry Ni, fuck, I didn’t mean to!” he rants as he dries away the tears with his palm.  
  
“It’s okay Haz, I’m just a little disappointed at your choice of words, that’s all.”  
  
“No, it’s not okay.”  
  
“Well, no it’s not, but I just want us to forget it for a moment and let me feel that you love me back instead.”  
  
Harry moves his hand to the male’s shoulder, running his fingers slowly on Niall’s arm and making tiny heart shaped circles on his arm. He’s so beautiful, and he should know that he isn’t just some dirty hooker-ghost, that he actually means something.  
  
I’m going to make you smile again Niall, if it’s the last thing I’ll do, I’m going to make you feel loved, Harry thinks to himself as he unites them into one and moans out the blonde’s name in pleasure into the silent night.  
  
-  
  
It takes almost ten months until Grimmy show up again, and he informs them that they’ve been sitting in this room together for almost six years now.  
  
It’s weird, because it doesn’t feel like 6 years have passed yet. When he thinks about it, it only feels like some weeks has gone since he met them all for the first time.  
  
He can still remember how Niall had clung to Grimmy’s arm, afraid of what was going to happen to him. He can see how Zayn had ignored the blonde’s friendly gesture, and the image of the way the two brunettes’ hands being tightly held is etched into his mind.  
  
He hands them the frames again, but this time he sees how Zayn throws it away. Instead he stands up on his legs, and Harry had almost forgotten that he still lived with them as he’s been living in silence for God knows how long in his little corner.  
  
“Don’t hand me that damn frame again! Open the door instead, because I’m not going to stay here a fucking minute more with those goddam faggots! You hear me, open the fucking door!”  
  
“No need to scream hunny,” Grimmy snarls annoyed as he walks over to the door and twists the key, “You could just have asked me and I would’ve let you go.”  
  
When he opens the door, Harry’s entire inside freeze and a loud beep occupied his ears. He can’t even turn around, but he knows by the look that the other four have that they have reacted the exact same way.  
  
It hurts, and his intestines are screaming in panic. It’s even colder than the winters were down on earth, and he can’t even think clear as he sees the black background behind the doorway.  
  
“Don’t you boys realize why you’re here? This isn’t just some white room, this is hell!” Grimmy snaps. “You can’t actually have believed all these stories that you’ve all told yourself, the only one of you who has been honest is the grumpy Zayn.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Niall chimes.  
  
“Oh Niall, you of all should know what I mean. Deep inside you understand why that man killed you, it’s because you destroyed his marriage by fucking one of your so-called ‘clients’. That man mourns you so much, and the only way for him to find love again is to shag the new hooker that has taken your place.  
  
And the two lovers over there, they didn’t commit suicide. It’s a touching story, but it’s all lies. The tall one nestled his way into that girl’s heart, and she fell for him… hard. He and the midget had chosen her and because she was rich, and they stole all her money. If it hadn’t been for her aggressive father, then those two wouldn’t have been dead now.”  
  
He inhales deeply before he bores his eyes into Harry’s, and he feels scared what he’s going to tell about him.  
  
“And lastly there’s the little saint, he who thinks that he was the one who had a father that used to touch him. But he’s wrong, because he was the one who did it to little Charlie when he came home high all those nights. He who blamed his son for being the cause of his girlfriend’s death, made little Charlie scarred for life. The boy is still damaged, the only words he can say is ‘stop Dad, it hurts’. It’s ironic, isn’t it?”  
  
“You’re lying!” Harry screams worriedly, because what the man says can’t be the truth. He isn’t a monster who sexually abused his own little three year old, he can’t be.  
  
“Harry, I think he’s honest. I remember now, Li and I were planning for months. We broke that girl’s heart, crushed it to dust, but we were stopped before we got the time to run away to Spain where we were going to start a new life.”  
  
Harry turns around, and tears are starting to develop in his eyes. He looks at Niall, and he’s the one who’s disgusted by Harry now.  
  
“Ni, he’s lying. I didn’t do that, it was my father who did that to me!” he cries. “He’s lying, I promise.”  
  
“Don’t talk to me Harry, not now.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“I said don’t talk to me!” Niall screams loudly. “I can’t understand how you could do that to a child. It’s one thing to destroy people’s marriages, but another one to actually touch a kid. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”  
  
Their gazes are turned at Grimmy who’s laughing loudly now at their stupidity, and Harry feels smaller than he ever has in his entire life.  
  
Even though Grimmy was a tad odd, he had liked him. But now he understands, the man is in fact the devil, and he has had the five of them wrapped around his finger.  
  
“It’s a bit hard for you to not, baby, since you’re going to stay here forever with him.”  
  
-  
  
It goes almost two years until somebody ever acknowledge his presence. They’re all resented by what he did to his son, and he can’t blame them.  
  
He remembers now how he used to bore his teeth into Charlie’s flesh, and how his son used to cry that he wanted his father to stop. He had just ignored him, too high to even care. He used to be so ashamed of what he had done that he fled away and forced his son to stop crying.  
  
The thing is the one who first talks to him is the one person who he never thought would ever acknowledge him again.  
  
“Nobody deserves to be left alone in an eternity. Even though this is hell, we should all make the best out of this as we’re going to stay here for the rest of our lives.” Zayn says as he throws his arm around Harry’s neck. “Blondie misses you, just so you know. We’ve been talking to each other lately, and he’s starting to look pass the fact that you used to fuck your own son-“  
  
“I didn’t fuck him! I just… I was just a really horrible father.” He manages out the words painfully.  
  
“Ah man, it’s okay. I understand, sometimes life is just really rough, and you do things you never thought you were able to do. Do you really think that I wanted to be an alcoholic and kill my wife that I actually loved? Her name was Perrie, and she was the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen in my whole life. So cheer up, and go and talk to him.”  
  
Harry smiles sadly at him, and he thinks that perhaps this is the start of a blooming friendship.  
  
Now that both Niall and Harry are being honest with each other, perhaps they can fall in love with each other once again.  
  
He takes a step forward, and he’s greeted by a plain expression. Niall’s never looked so cold, but Harry has not earned anything better, actually, he’s treated way better than he should be.  
  
“Niall,” Harry starts, “we’re friends, right?”  
  
“Of course we are.” he says as he remembers it’s the exact same words that he once said before all these horrible things happened. His face softens before he continues. “I can’t believe you ever thought that we weren’t.”  
  
“Good.” Harry says smilingly before he presses his lips to Niall’s. “In the end we’re all just a bunch of sinners.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around Niall’s tiny waist.  
  


Maybe there was a reason why they were the ones who got assembled; because they’ve helped each other from being the miserable fucks they were to become better people.  
  
Perhaps the white room was the only way for them to be saved from their own personal hell that they created down on earth, and this might be their heaven if they try hard enough to appreciate and love each other as they deserve to be.

They need to look pass all the bad things that they’ve done in their past and look forward instead. They need to see everything from a different light and convert the hell to a new heaven, to forget and create new memories, and treat each other with passion.

Because in the end they have an entire eternity to find out the answer; and they’re going to spend it with each other forever. 


End file.
